


Bribing

by xpiester333x



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, ZoSan Coffee Shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpiester333x/pseuds/xpiester333x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to make them get along better, Nami pays Zoro to spend a little time at each island, drinking coffee with that annoying cook. Zoro didn't realize it would turn into a learning experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bribing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for the ZoSan Coffee Shop AU project on Tumblr. The point of this project is to encourage more constructive criticism, so characterization, plot, grammar, everything, are all greatly encouraged on this fic (even more so than usual). I'll appreciate any critique I can get :)

The sun was high in the sky, seeming unusually bright as it shone down on the spring island. It had that light, airy feeling that only spring islands seemed to have, as if they were recovering from a long, harsh winter. In reality winter time on spring islands was usually brief and mild, but it didn’t stop the island from making it feel as if it had been through much worse. The air was warm, and the atmosphere of the island itself was homey and inviting. Brightly colored storefronts lined brick roads, and shoppers dressed in light, airy colors happily made their way from shop to shop. Fresh, green grass grew valiantly wherever there was space, adding even more color to the bright and cheery island.

The fair weather and cheerful atmosphere had put their crew in good spirits as well, so much so that the usual levels of arguing and bickering that sometimes occurred when they docked were entirely absent. Everyone seemed happy and at ease, though given the weather they had to travel through just to reach this island, that was hardly surprising. The constant warm and sunny environment of this island conflicted horribly with its surrounding neighbors, causing massive and unavoidable storms. Nami had gotten them through the worst of it safe and sound, but bad weather always put a fair amount of strain on the crew.

It was the combination of stress from the storms and the warm, inviting island that Zoro blamed for the momentary bout of insanity that had to have been the cause of Sanji’s next words to him.

“Oi, Marimo,” the cook said, flicking his spent cigarette away as he approached. “You and I are going to go get a drink.”

“Hah?!” Zoro frowned in confusion. “Why the hell would I go for a drink with you?” He and Sanji were not exactly the closest of friends. He didn’t hate the cook, and he’d trust the swirly bastard with his life on the battle field, but their personalities didn’t mesh well. Zoro would never be able to make sense of Sanji, not that he really cared to. They were definitely far from the kind of friends that went out together.

“You and I could use a little one-on-one time,” Sanji explained.

“Where is this coming from?” Zoro asked, both suspicious and confused. He’d always thought he and Sanji had just agreed to disagree. Sure, they fought a lot, but that was just how their relationship worked. Why would Sanji suddenly feel so inclined to force them together? “Are you trying to pick a fight?” He asked.

Sanji sighed, his fingers twitching towards the breast pocket of his coat where Zoro knew Sanji kept his cigarettes. The fact that he hadn’t already lit a new one was surprising, and it confirmed Zoro’s right to be suspicious.

“I’m not picking a fight. I’m doing exactly the opposite,” Sanji grumbled irritably. “Just go out for one drink with me, then you’re free to do whatever it is algae usually do.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed. There was definitely something wrong here, and he wasn’t stupid enough to let himself walk right into a trap. Sanji really must have thought he was an idiot to fall for such an obvious setup. “No way,” he grunted, turning his back on the cook and facing the island.

“One drink, Marimo,” Sanji said, and Zoro could hear the rising temper in his voice.

“I said, no way, shit-cook,” Zoro replied.

He’d been anticipating a kick, his whole body tensing in preparation for it, but after a slight pause he heard the cook sigh again before retreating. He could hear the soles of those impractical dress shoes moving further and further away from him on the deck, but he could hardly believe it. What the hell had gotten into the cook?

 

* * *

 

As eager as they all were to get off of the ship and stretch their legs on dry land, it was impossible to go anywhere without attending Nami’s usual “pre-land” meeting first. Well, you could avoid it, maybe, if you wanted to go without money, but Zoro needed the meager allowance she gave him at every meeting. How else was he supposed to pay for his booze? He suspected Nami had rigged it this way on purpose. Probably in the hopes that she could keep everyone on board long enough to stop Luffy from causing a riot, but that rarely worked out in her favor. Luffy didn’t need money to have an adventure, and if he were eager enough there would be no stopping him from launching himself ashore. Nami still insisted, however, and if Zoro wanted his money, he’d better attend.

It was fortunate the good weather seemed to affect even insufferable sea witches such as Nami, she kept her usual “good behavior” speech to a minimum and quickly dismissed them to collect their allowance and leave. Zoro waited in line behind Usopp to collect his money, though he swore theamount she gave him grew smaller every time. Any money was booze money, however, so he wisely kept his mouth shut for now and waited patiently.

“Oh, Zoro, just the person I wanted to see.” The twisted grin she wore on her face was never a good sign. The fact that Sanji stood just behind her, like a sentinel on duty, did nothing to make Zoro feel any easier.

“Zoro,” Nami continued, her voice clipped and professional. “You’re going out with Sanji.”

“What?!” Zoro barked, sending Sanji a glare. That damn traitor. He couldn’t get his way so he sent the sea witch after him?! “Says who?!”

“Says your allowance,” Nami’s wicked smile returned as she held up a small bundle of belis. It wasn’t a large sum of money, but it was far more than Zoro was used to seeing. “I even threw in a bonus for you, but you can only have it if you do as Sanji says.”

That was foul play, and Zoro hated her for it, but more belis meant more alcohol and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to get him satisfactorily drunk.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, his eyes meeting Sanji’s over Nami’s shoulder.

Though the question had really been directed at Sanji, it was Nami who answered for him. “Your fighting is tearing up the ship,” she told him. “I can’t even tell you how much I had to give to Franky in order to pay for the repairs. Every time I turn around, something new is broken. I _should_ start charging you for the damages, but I think you owe me enough already.”

Zoro silently agreed with her but didn’t dare say so out loud.

“You have to start getting along better,” Nami continued. “This isn’t going to continue any longer. You hear me?” She looked him dead in the eye, arms folded across her chest. It was a stance that said she meant business and that Zoro didn’t have a choice but to agree.

He glared at Sanji again. It made sense now, of course Sanji would be eager to please one of his “precious ladies”, that was why he seemed so adamant and non-aggressive about asking Zoro before. To his surprise, however, Sanji was not wiggling like an idiot over Nami, he was looking back at Zoro, his expression oddly determined. He wondered what kind of deal Nami struck with him to get him to agree to this. It had to have been something good.

“Fine,” he spat in irritation, holding his hand out to Nami. She dropped the cash into his hand with a satisfied smile. He ignored her, turning on heel and heading towards the door. “Let’s go, shit-cook.”

He didn’t even bother to turn around to see if Sanji was following.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Sanji was following, and he made his presence known all too soon when Zoro tried to lead them in the direction of the nearest tavern.

“Not there, Marimo,” Sanji spoke, tugging on the back of Zoro’s collar and earning himself an irritated scowl. “I’m not having an alcohol induced fight with you at a bar instead of on the ship.”

“I know how to hold my liquor,” Zoro’s scowl twisted into an antagonistic smile. “It’s not my fault a certain love-cook can’t.”

This was usually where the cook would lose his temper and let his competitive nature take over, determined to _prove_ to Zoro that he could hold his liquor just fine. In line with his pattern of strange behavior today, however, Sanji only gave him an exasperated look before turning and heading in the opposite direction of the bar. Zoro had no idea where else the cook thought they would have a drink, but the money in his pocket reminded him that he needed to behave, at least for now. So instead of pointing out what an obvious idiot the cook was, Zoro followed behind him, hoping this shitty-cook wouldn’t do something stupid like getting them lost.

They had only been walking for five minutes, but the atmosphere in this area of the town was much different already than it had been by the taverns and brothels. The air itself seemed cleaner, and the people were more genuine and inviting than the seedy characters that slept in the streets by the bars. That wasn’t anything unusual. There was usually a place like that in every town, some more dangerous than others, where the less than savory characters made their livings. It was, Zoro supposed, the dark side to every fair faced city, but it was where he liked to spend the majority of his time when they made land. Mostly because the liquor was cheap and the company sparse, people like that usually had a good sense of danger and steered clear of him while he was there.

They were far from that atmosphere now, however, and Zoro wondered if he had somehow been conned into helping with the shopping. They were certainly heading that way. Though the street they were currently heading down wasn’t the main thoroughfare of the shopping district, it was still lined with small shops and businesses. Restaurants and inns as well as specialty stores, rather than food stalls and supply shops made up this more welcoming area of the town. The people here were more open and friendly, nodding or smiling to Sanji as they passed. The cook returned their greetings politely but ignored Zoro entirely until they came to a stop in front of a small, brightly painted shop.

“This will do,” Sanji said.

Zoro looked the storefront over. It had a homey look to it, as if it was trying to resemble the front of a home, with lace curtained windows and flowers growing in planters on the sill. If it wasn’t for the sign hanging above it and a board advertising blends and specials on the street out front, Zoro would have thought it really was someone’s home.

“A coffee shop?” Zoro asked, confused. “That’s where you want to have a drink?”

“We’re supposed to be getting along better,” Sanji shrugged. “I doubt alcohol and a bar fight are going to help us achieve that.”

Maybe not, but Zoro imagined he certainly would enjoy the alcohol and the fight more than sipping coffee in such a stifling environment. He wasn’t the one calling the shots in this situation however, he was at the mercy of whatever the cook (and by extension, Nami) wanted. Remembering the money in his pocket, he figured he could probably swallow down a cup of coffee with the cook, at least this once.

The inside of the shop was just as homey as the outside, and it made Zoro feel even more out of place and uncomfortable. He took a seat at a table near the door, a place convenient for easy escape. Sanji shot him an impatient look but followed, slipping into his chair just as a perky server approached them.

She was around Nami’s age, but with golden ringlets and a winning smile Zoro had never seen on their navigator’s face unless there was money involved. She was attractive, Zoro supposed, although not really to his taste. She was the type the cook usually bent over backwards for, however, and the swordsman expected Sanji to start wiggling in his seat any moment now.

But it never happened; Sanji greeted her with a smile of his own, of course, but the trilling voice oozing proclamations of love never came, and Sanji remained seated in his chair like a normal person. Zoro was beginning to wonder if the cook was sick, when the girl spoke.

“Can I help you?” The girl asked cheerfully.

“Coffee,” Zoro muttered, sulkily resting his chin in his hand. He would have killed for rum, sake or even beer, but he knew it would be useless to ask if they served it here. The cook was looking over a small menu that sat on the table, but to Zoro there was no difference between one kind of coffee and another.

“Ah-um…” the girl hesitated. “What kind of-“

“Mademoiselle,” Sanji interrupted smoothly. “Ignore him, as you can see, moss has replaced what was left of his brains. One so fair as yourself shouldn’t have to deal with him, allow me.”

Sanji began speaking in some foreign tongue, a language only a coffee enthusiast would understand, and Zoro snorted in irritation. Sanji kicked him under the table, but with none of the force that Zoro knew he was capable of. A reminder to mind his manners.

The server disappeared, and Sanji fell quiet again. It was unnerving to be in such close proximity to the cook and not be fighting. Zoro wasn’t sure what to do with himself, since he’d never tried to hold a conversation with the cook that wasn’t an argument before. What was he supposed to talk about? What did Sanji like? Women? Zoro could care less about them. Cooking? Maybe, but by Zoro’s definition cooking was something you did over a flame to make whatever you were eating more edible. The way Sanji cooked was too complicated and fancy for Zoro to understand.

He settled for keeping the silence instead, still petulantly resting his chin in his hand and wishing for booze. Sanji had begun to tap a rhythm into the wooden tabletop. A tuneless _tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap tap tap-tap_ that repeated again and again. It was an infuriating noise, but Zoro had distracted himself from it by watching the cook’s hand instead. The way the dexterous finger moved separately from the others, the tendon stretching and flexing beneath the pale white skin, was fascinating to Zoro.

When their coffee arrived, Zoro watched as Sanji’s fingers gripped the handle of the cup, boney knuckles straining at the skin while long, elegant fingers twined carefully around the porcelain. Sanji’s hands were the tools of his trade, Zoro remembered, and more important to the cook than his own life. They were the reason Sanji only fought with his feet; he couldn’t risk damaging his precious hands.

For that reason Zoro had expected Sanji’s hands to be delicate, fragile and unblemished. They weren’t, though. There were prominent scars raised on the skin here and there, and fair white lines carved in to the skin in other places. The fingers were thin, but their grip was strong and sure. They were hands that were capable and used to hard work, Zoro recognized, and that surprised him.

Sanji shook him from his thoughts with a question. “How do you like your coffee?”

Zoro blinked himself back to reality, quickly taking a gulp of the scalding hot liquid. It scorched his tongue and burned down his throat. He nearly choked, but forced himself to swallow and ignored the pain that came with the burn.

“It’s good,” he lied. Truthfully, he couldn’t taste it at all now, the heat had burned his sense of taste away, but he didn’t need to tell the cook that. He kicked himself for getting so fixated on Sanji’s hands, the cook would humiliate him if he realized. Zoro just needed to play it off and hope Sanji hadn’t noticed.

“I thought you’d like that,” Sanji smiled slightly. He staked his pride as a sea cook on knowing the tastes of every member of the crew, and he was obviously pleased to hear he’d been right once again. “Now drink up, moss head,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. “I have shopping to do, and I’m sure you’ve got some bar to haunt.”

* * *

 

Zoro had survived his one drink with Sanji and spent his extended allowance on all the liquor the bar had to offer him afterwards. If the goal had been for him and Sanji to get along better, however, it had failed. They were still at each other’s throats almost every day, and only being separated by the length of the ship kept them from fighting. It wasn’t any different from usual, but it certainly proved that Nami’s little scheme hadn’t worked.

There was only one thing that had changed since he’d had coffee with Sanji. Zoro took far more notice of the cook’s hands than he had before. He watched the way they worked when Sanji prepped their meals and how they held Sanji’s usual cigarette. He was careful that the cook never caught him looking, it would be humiliating to explain if he did, but ever since he’d taken notice of them in that coffee shop, Zoro couldn’t help but notice them.

He should have known that Nami wouldn’t give up so easily. The next island they arrived at, she sent him and Sanji out together for a drink. The conditions were the same; one drink with Sanji meant one slightly larger wad of cash. Zoro almost wanted to refuse, just to see the sea witch’s plan fail, but the money was too good to pass up. Of course, that was probably the idea, and it worked. Zoro accepted the money she offered and followed the cook to yet another coffee shop.

This place was less fancy, smaller, and the lighting was darker. Zoro felt a little more comfortable here than he had at the last place. He let Sanji order for him this time, not even attempting to speak to the server.  He watched the cook instead, noting the polite smile he shared with people he didn’t know. It wasn’t the kind of smile he gave his nakama (though he never smiled at Zoro at all). Even Nami and Robin, whom Sanji shared most of his smiles with, had never gotten a smile like this. It was somewhat reserved and distant. The smiles Zoro had seen Sanji give the crew were open, honest, but this smile was different. Polite, but not entirely genuine…

“What are you looking at?” Sanji’s irate tone startled Zoro from his thoughts.

“Your eyebrow,” Zoro retorted quickly, feeling stupid for having been caught. “It really must be one of the wonders of the world.”

This, of course, sparked an argument that continued until their server returned with their coffees.

* * *

 

That was how it went at every island.  Sometimes Zoro would try to refuse and Nami would slip another bill into his allowance, making it impossible. Zoro had been in every type of a coffee shop, and if there was no coffee shop to be found, Sanji would make coffeehimself, and they would sit in the galley. Eventually, Zoro had just come to accept it without a fight, and truthfully… he didn’t really dread it so much anymore.

Each time he had coffee with the cook, he discovered something new. He noticed Sanji bit the inside of his cheek if he went too long without a smoke, and that tapping his fingers was a habit. He _did_ take special notice of Sanji’s eyebrow when he discovered that it gave away his whole mood even if Sanji’s behavior suggested something else. Concern, disbelief, anger and contentment were all easily detected just by the way that curly brow moved.

It wasn’t just physical things Zoro noticed, either. Zoro noticed Sanji hummed when his mind was elsewhere and that Sanji liked to sample food whenever the shop offered it because he liked to learn new things about cooking. He learned that even when Sanji disliked what he was eating, he would finish every bite of it (but not without complaint).

He noticed a certain smile. Sanji had many kinds of smiles, but this smile was different. It was different from the eager smiles he gave the ladies and different from the warm smiles he shared with his nakama. It was much wider and more genuine than the polite smiles he shared with strangers. It was youthful, in a way, wide and proud. That was the smile Sanji wore when hetalked to Zoro about the All Blue.

The most recent thing Zoro had noticed about Sanji was his eyes, or rather, his _eye_ , since the idiot wore his hair in that stupid way that always kept one eye hidden from view. It wasn’t like Zoro had never looked Sanji in the eye before; there were plenty of times they’d butted heads when Zoro would have had plenty of time to see that one visible eye. In all of those times, however, Zoro had been preoccupied, and he never really noticed how _blue_ Sanji’s eyes were.

They reminded Zoro a lot of that mythical ocean Sanji talked about. Just like that ocean, where all the seas existed in one place, Sanji’s eyes were every color blue imaginable. They changed from an almost green aqua to a dark, grey-blue. Sometimes they changed with his mood or with the lighting of the room, but sometimes they changed on their own, without any prompting. Zoro’s favorite color was the deep cerulean blue that seemed to be the default color. They were fascinating, and even though Sanji was sure to catch Zoro staring at his eyes, the swordsman couldn’t look away.

* * *

 

Zoro reported to the galley for their pre-land meeting, eager to receive his allowance. It had been a long stretch at sea, long enough that their supplies had dwindled greatly; including the supply of alcohol Zoro used to get himself by between islands. He was ready to have his drink with the cook and then get his allowance and make up for lost drinking time.

Nami handed out everyone’s money. Everyone was out the door the moment they received their share, eager to stretch their legs after the long trip. When she got to Zoro, Nami hesitated for only a moment before handing him his money. The fold of cash was much, much smaller than Zoro had expected, closer to the usual amount he received than the amount he’d been getting lately.

“Oi, witch!” He frowned. “What gives? Don’t think I’m going to entertain that shitty cook for free.”

Nami’s eye twitched. “You don’t have to ‘entertain’ him at all.”

“What?” Zoro asked. Something sank in his gut. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was, but he didn’t like it.

“I said you don’t have to,” she sighed. “The point was to stop you guys from fighting, but you two still bicker every chance you get, and you broke the door to the bathroom last week! I know a bad investment when I see one.”

Zoro stared blankly at the small amount of money in his hands. He should have been disappointed by the loss of good booze money, but for some reason that didn’t bother him at all. There was something else bothering him. If he wasn’t getting paid, he didn’t have any reason to sit through a cup of coffee with the shitty cook. That should have been a good thing. He hated those drinks and that cook, didn’t he?

No, he didn’t. He recognized the feeling in his gut now. It was loss. He felt like he’d lost something; like something important had been taken away from him. Nami gave him one last look, almost pitying, as if she knew what he was feeling at that moment, before she stepped around him and left him standing alone in the galley.

He stared blankly at the money he still held in his hand. Why did he feel so inexplicably wrong all of a sudden? Because he couldn’t see Sanji? It wasn’t like the cook was going anywhere, and living on a ship meant you were bound to run into the other members of your crew sooner or later. Things weren’t any different now than they had been weeks ago before he started having to have coffee with Sanji at every island.

Except… maybe they were different. Weeks ago, Zoro hadn’t known that when Sanji was tired, his eyes turned almost grey. He hadn’t known that Sanji kept an alphabetical mental list of his spices, or that he could detect every single one used in someone else’s dish. He didn’t know that Sanji tapped a new pack of cigarettes against his leg three times before opening it. He didn’t know that Sanji’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere thought of the All Blue.

He hadn’t noticed when his reluctance to spend time with the cook had become eagerness. He hadn’t realized how much he looked forward to learning new things about the cook. He hadn’t even thought about what he would do when those moments would be over, because he hadn’t ever wanted them to end. When had that happened?

When had he fallen in love with the cook?

Zoro was out of the galley before he even realized his feet had started moving. He beat Nami down the gangplank. Out of the corner of his eye he caught her folding her arms across her chest and smirking in that self-satisfied way she did when she won at something. He didn’t have time to think about what she was up to now, he was in a hurry. He hit the dock and broke off at a run towards the seaside town.

He stopped when he reached what he thought might have been the center of this stupid city. His breathing was heavy, both from his run to get here and from the urgency that gripped his insides and willed him to _get moving already._ He cursed his bad sense of direction as he turned around, trying to decide which direction to go in. _Screw it_ , he thought, picking at random and letting his feet lead the way.

* * *

 

It took two hours. Two hours of constant running. He’d run into and over more people than he could count, and found himself chased by angry pursuers more than once. He’d made it, however, finally. He found himself in front of a little coffee shop. In his defense, it _was_ out of the way and a fair distance from the main square of the city, so it wouldn’t have been easy to find even if he had a good sense of direction. That didn’t matter now though; the point was, he had made it.

A bell chimed above the door as Zoro entered. His eyes scanned across the interior of the shop, settling on a mop of blond hair in the back corner. Relief welled in his chest, quickly evaporating the sense of loss that he’d been suffering since he’d left the ship. He entered the shop, letting the door snap shut behind him.

“Welcome!” Greeted the shop worker. “How can I-“

“Not now,” Zoro waved him off as he passed. Long, purposeful strides carried him across the shop in just a few steps. He came to a halt at the table where the blond sat, staring up at him with wide, blue eyes; eyes the color of the sky.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sanji asked, surprise evident in his voice.

Zoro pulled out the chair across from him. He slumped onto it heavily, folding his arms across his chest impatiently. “Having some coffee,” he replied.

Sanji looked away, tapping his burning cigarette into the ashtray on the table. “I thought Nami said you didn’t have to come out with me anymore.”

Zoro grunted in affirmation.

“And you’re not getting paid for this,” Sanji added, his voice a low growl now. “So why the hell are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” Zoro replied simply.

“You bastard,” Sanji growled, kicking him under the table.

Zoro lurched over the table, grunting in pain and reaching to nurse the place where the cook had kicked him. Before he could reach it, however, Sanji hauled him up by the collar and pulled him half over the table. Zoro was about to voice his complaints about the rough treatment when he registered the warm pair of lips pressing against his own.

“I like you, you shitty swordsman,” Sanji confessed, releasing Zoro and looking away in embarrassment.

Zoro got to learn more about Sanji that day. He learned that Sanji tasted like smoke and mint and that his lips were surprisingly soft. He learned that Sanji finished every kind remark with an insult to hide his embarrassment. And he learned that Sanji had fallen for him quite a while ago, it just took some bribing to get Zoro to catch up.


End file.
